Taiwan's south, east, and north coast

Tainan City night market

Whew, that's an all-encompassing title for this second blogpost from Taiwan, but how else to sum it up? At this point I have finished my 15-day, 787-mile anti-clockwise ride around the entire island (which doesn't include my initial 59 miles ridden around Taoyuan and Taipei). What a ride it has been! Mile for mile, day for day, I would venture that this has been the most fun I have ever had on any cycle tour (well, there were some of those adventures in the Chihuahuan desert with my late buddy Tim Vaughn ...).

Riding along Taiwan's south-east shore

Close to Taiwan's southernmost point

No, overall it would be difficult to replicate such a fine trip. As Sabine said in a message: "[do] not measure any new trip against this one." She's right. Seldom does everything converge in such a complete, satisfying, and calming way as how it did over these past two-plus weeks. I may have bitched about one day of riding in hard rain, inches away from some rather large trucks on twisty mountainous roads, but when you come to think of it: I really lucked out with the weather. It wasn't until two nights ago that I learned from my new friend Mike Everett (who with his wife, Morgan, and their three kids has been living in New Taipei City for more than a decade) that Taipei is one of the rainiest cities in the world with an annual tally of 80+ inches! For your Europeans, that's a water column more than two meters high!

Rainy, twisty mountain roads on the east coast

Probably the happiest Seven Eleven in the world

But it wasn't just benign weather. (Sorry to digress once again, but somebody asked me on FB why I had initially chosen Taiwan as a destination, and a huge part of it was that I wanted to extend summer for a few more weeks. Stay tuned to what I'll be doing in January, maybe.) Weather alone is not enough to make out of a good trip an outstandingly spectacular one. Taiwan has it all: friendly people, totally astounding food, natural beauty (more on that in the following), and a certain national soul and pride that pervade everything else. You can find the latter in many other small, sometimes beleaguered countries as well, but they may lack some of those other components. Don't worry, Mexico, I still love you, but you got to get rid of that violence.

Friendly folks who have an infectious smile

From what I saw and sensed, Taiwan's population is extremely non-violent. Apart from some weird shenanigans on the scooters (thinking here of those oncoming left turns at full speed to beat approaching traffic) there is nothing that struck me as coming close to our western impatience and aggression. Maybe it's all anchored in the religion, a soft, benign, happy, engulfing one. I know I can go into any Christian church and feel "welcome," but here I felt as if I could go into a tempel and just be. Yes, just be. That's extremely freeing, even for someone who doesn't believe in any cultish trends, deities, or religions.

Having a choice of gods seems like a sensible method of appealing to some higher authority. Christianity has its various saints who are helpful when you're in dire straits and need some immediate help, but that omnipotent God claiming a seat in the clouds, as we have been indoctrinated, is still the boss. Here, things are a bit more relaxed, and maybe that's why folks are a bit more relaxed, too. I sure as heck can't see a Taiwanese terrorist organization that tries to mirror ISIS. In Taiwan, if you have a special need, you turn to the god that specializes in your calamity--as easy as that. and while you're at it, you can ask your god questions via throwing small moon blocks, or jiaobei, and if you don't like the god's answer, why, you just throw the blocks again and hope for a different outcome.

Jiaobei, or moon blocks, used to ask the gods questions and get answers

Jiaobei, incense, and offerings

So, to get back to the ride: I had enjoyed several days of tail winds on the west coast, which is heavily populated and up to a point rather industrialized. The government-sponsored science parks and private development areas are astounding. The size and sheer scale of these places makes you go "wow." Seriously, on Mexico's Riviera Maya you can see entrance gates to all-inclusive retreats that use a 10x scale, but here, man, you think you're in Tiananmen square when it comes to scale, and I haven't even been there and just have seen photos.

Art along the way, everywhere

OK, digressing once again: Who pays for all this stuff? Where is this money coming from? According to Mike and Morgan (and corroborated online) income taxes here run a bit under 20%. That's similar to the US. I'm looking at normal people, like myself. So, Taiwan has about 23 million citizens, and in the US we have about 330 million. Where does our money go, and where goes theirs? Is the IMF funding Taiwan with billions of dollars to build science parks and bike facilities, and is corruption so rampant (but never talked about) in the US that we can't manage to fix potholes on our streets on the east and west sides of Lubbock (or even pave some of the streets within the city limits)? I'm sure I must be getting something wrong somewhere, and if you know what it is, please let me know.

The Taiwanese LOVE their fiberglass displays

Enough of this, even though it is grating. Equally--no, actually much MORE--grating is what I saw on this trip, riding along the coast once I had hit the southernmost point of the island. WE ARE KILLING OURSELVES. It's not the planet; it's us. Riding through all those tiny fishing harbors, and along mile after mile of what used to be a clean coast, I've seen all that green filigrane seine fishing net that will kill anything that gets entrapped by it if the netting breaks loose. And judging from what I saw on those shores, it's a total shitload! Millions of tons, maybe more. And the stuff won't just go away. It's appalling and frightening.

I know I'm not neutral carbon if I fly to a place such as Taiwan. Sabine and many of her German friends are much more organic that us folks in Texas are. Easy, guys, don't crucify me just yet. Old Greta has a point, a huge one, maybe the biggest point ever--but you don't change the world by skipping that normal egg and subbing it for a happy-chick egg. I tell you how we may have a chance: Travel the world, see what is actually happening, realize that we are in much bigger dog-doodoo than you ever though, and then start praying. Of course that won't do jack. Because, quite frankly, there is not an environmental deity in the panoply to call on in this particular situation and we've done so much harm that we're heading somewhere pretty ugly. Still, we can try to do your part, but please realize that resistance is unfortunately futile.

Now that I have ruined everybody's day and pissed off my enviro friends (gosh, I hope you realize how enviro I am!), let's get on with the story. 

Pics from the Kenting area, which close to the southernmost point of the island

First of all, the south coast (especially around Kenting) is extremely touristy. Loads and loads of tour busses roll through here and make landfall, as exemplified by that splendid night market close to the southernmost point of the island. Riding from the west coast into this area had been a gradual transition from city to rural areas, drier areas to much more topical ones. It was interesting to see all the aqua culture in these southern areas, with large ponds that are used to grow shrimp and fish (tilapia, I presume). These ponds are fed fresh sea water through an insane network of PVC pipes and pumps, and floating agitators provide oxygen for the crop. Very interesting.

Fish and shrimp aqua farming

I also saw some such aqua farming on the east and north coasts, but certainly not to that extent. It was interesting to see old abalone ponds on the east coast that had been abandoned, some of them converted at some point into swimming pools for tourists, but not much seems to have come of that. Fishing seems to be a favorite pastime for those living in the coastal areas as I saw people with long rods almost anywhere the coast was somehow accessible.

Old abalone ponds and a creative way to decorate the harbor entry

It is difficult to delineate the vegetation zones you cross on a bike. You know, suddenly you just realize that, wow, there are all those banana trees while beforehand it was some scrubby stuff. Everything flows on a bike, and I like that. Starting to go up on the east coast there was much more green stuff, and the ocean suddenly took on a different note. No more nansy-pansy stuff--let the big-boy waves take over. We're talking about some impressive wave action here. After all, the Pacific makes it first landfall after a long stretch that reaches east all the way to the Americas. Really, there's nothing pacific about the Pacific.

Tropical views and tropical fruit; these are Taiwan Pineapple Custard Apples (and bananas above)

The contrast between the two coasts--west and east--is like night and day. The east is unbridled, wild, take-no-prisoners, don't-even-think-about-shipwrecking-here. It's by far the most beautiful coastline that I have seen anywhere, stretching not just for a few miles, but well more than 200! It is rocky, with interesting geological formations wherever you look. And let's not forget that its immediate steepness is continued into the interior where, just a few miles from the coast, the mountains reach as high as 12,966 feet!!!!

Views, formations, high mountains--incredible landscape

The highway along the east coast is a marvel. I was first on HWY 26 to round the cape, and then it was HWY 9 that hugged the coast so closely that often I'd look over that two-foot high guardrail to see the waves crashing 300 or 400 feet below. I did luck out that almost every day the sun peeked out for at least a few hours, but there were also lots of clouds and mist that somewhat degraded the views. on a brilliant day, I can't think of a more beautiful coastal drive, with deep blue and turquoise waters, foaming white waves crashing into black rocks, and green slopes reaching for the sky. No wonder I took way too many photos.

It was an amazing ride. Some of it was on flat roads along the coastline, with waves crashing literally 50 feet away. At other times the road would go up, up, up to make it around some insurmountable point that the engineers couldn't tame. I don't think I had a day with more than 4,000 or so feet of climbing, but at the end of each day (45 to 55 miles) I was dead. In some areas there simply wasn't enough room for the road, so narrow tunnels (that generally are dimly lit) up to a mile long are used to connect the open spaces. Riding these tunnels wasn't much fun. I'm not easily frightened, but when ever I made it through one I breathed a big sigh of relief.

I had been a bit worried about where to stay every night. On the well-populated west coast, there was no issue finding online some accommodations. But on the east side, things were a bit less abundant. Even so, I booked usually two nights out, using the agoda.com website to find either hotels or home-stays in the $25 to $30 range. I'd mull the map ad look at how far each stage of my ride would be and then pull the trigger. I'm happy to say that it all worked out. All hotels were clean and comfortable; some were on the verge of luxury hotels for $30 while some others were hidden away in a dark back-alley without a real window, for $30. No rhyme or reason. And all provided toothbrush, comb, shampooing shampoo, tea, coffee, and the occasional condom. Except two of them, all provided breakfast, usually in the form of a large buffet that resembled what you find in a Chinese restaurant in the US. It's rather odd what one eats here early in the morning!

Daily sink laundry

All rooms had flat screen TVs, ranging from 13" to 62" (!!!)

Note the shower attachment to the sink faucet--homestay

Luxury for $30

Excuse me, is this my hotel?

Artwork and enough space for my bike

So this 'hood was a bit on the rough side--hotel entrance ahead to the left

Nice sit-in bathtub

This one was not only hard to find but it had no elevator...

... but it did have glow-in-the-dark sealife on the ceiling!

My first "home-stay" came in the tiny town of Dawu, a day's ride north from the southern cape. I had an address, in Chinese, that I had put into my Locus navigation app as a destination, but all this doesn't help much when you end up in a tiny cul-de-sac with 20 potential apartments that could be your destination address. No blame here on Locus, but some of this was really tight. With the locals invariably speaking zero English and not communicating well in regard to visual inputs such as pointing or making funny faces I still somehow ended up in the first place where my bike did not accompany me into the room and where I really felt disconnected from the rest of the world.

And then I found a seafood restaurant with a few locals, somehow managed to order really tasty food, and the world was OK once again. As it was every day and every night.

Dawu was one of only three places where I did not stay in a hotel. Also on the east coast, in tiny Changbin, I had an AirBnB bungalow (!!!!!) that was as rickety (but clean) as they come. To find it I had to go next to the construction site next to Fire Brigade 37 where I was to tell somebody to give me the key. The somebody nodded, got on his bike and rode off into the the dusk, with me following. Five minutes later we arrived at the bungalow, clean but without a towel, which is a bit of a necessity post-shower. One phone call and  fifteen minutes later, the guy--who was a worker at the construction site--reappeared, this time on his scooter, and handed me with a beaming smile something that resembled a Thanksgiving table runner, a narrow and long towel thingy. See, it all works out.

My low point of the trip came on the juncture of days 11 and 12. Excuse me for a quick digression: While I am writing this, the trash people are coming by, once again, playing the beautiful Maiden's Prayer to announce their being ready to accept the citizentry's refuse. It has been a constant theme of this trip, and unless you've heard it you would never know what this little tune means to me. This is my blog, my diary, and my memory.

Back to my arrival/departure in/from Nan'ao. I had the address, I had found the little motel, I had been waiting for somebody to show up. Grey skies, some drizzle, pre-paid reservation, nobody around. I don't know why, but I approached a mid-aged woman and a much older lady (probably her mom, and she wore rubber boots) who were walking to their car in this truly dingy neighborhood and asked in my best English and Chinese (thanks to Google Translate), well, something. Something like "Do you know who runs this place?" or maybe, "I've ridden a long way today and would so much like to check in."

Friendly folks who helped me in Nan'ao

Friendly Buddha who helped me get up a hill

Friendly rock that let my bike rest

And this is what I have learned about Taiwanese people: They will listen to you. They don't understand--as little as I do--but hey will open up and try to help. Those two women, obviously on another errand they were on, interrupted their lives and went hither and thither and then motioned me to follow them in their car for a mile or two and arrive in some out-of-the-way neighborhood where either the owner or a caretaker or just a young thug with the right key was mixing concrete, and then we all nodded and I rode back and the thug showed up and let me into the Love Motel, as I called it. Good trip? You bet.

                                    

I've written about the scenery, the temples, the riding, the hotels, the friendly people. So what's missing? Why, the night markets and the food!!! It was not that I had come for the food to Taiwan, but when I left I knew that would be reason enough.

The Tainan City night market was by far the largest that I visited

 

Karaoke at the night market

Taiwanese are addicted to all kinds of arcade games

These "grab with the crane" arcade games are everywhere in the cities--everywhere!

Before the trip I had read about the night markets and Taiwan's insane street food scene. Quite frankly, I didn't really understand what a night market is. In a nice analogy, it is more or less a large gathering of pop-up curbside stalls, usually out of a small cart or a similar temporary arrangement. Some night markets, in the smaller towns, will be open only once or twice a week, while in the larger towns and cities they will be open every night and there may actually be several night markets in different neighborhoods.

It would be wrong to say that these night markets are only about food, because that's clearly wrong. You go here to buy shoes and clothes, household wares and electronics accessories. You go here to satisfy your entertainment cravings in the form of arcade games for young and old. But you also go here to eat! Night markets are lively, crowded, well-lit affairs that bustle with energy and intoxicating food fragrances. They generally open at 6 p.m. and won't close until around midnight, powered by battery- and gas-powered lanterns. You got to see a night market to feel its liveliness.

On my trip around Taiwan I visited probably a dozen different night markets, and each seemed to have its own character. Some were pretty small in size while others were ginormous. Some stretched for many blocks in narrow city streets while others occupied open areas that provided parking space for the scooters and enough room for all those stalls. And each one offered some of the wildest food you'll ever taste!

I do have to admit that it was a bit of a challenge figuring out what to eat, simply because I had idea what a lot of the stuff actually was. Almost everything is labelled in chinese, with only numbers indicating the price, which was helpful. I soon figured out the pricing system, usually 35 TWD (New Taiwan Dollar) for one and 100 TWD for three of whatever it was. So, that equalled $1.15 to $3.00. Or a straight 100 TWD for a fried or grilled octopus, 125 TWD ($4.10) for a big one. The going rate for six octopus balls (one of my favorites) was 40 TWD, about $1.30. Those fried quail eggs ran 80 TWD, or $2.60. You get the drift--it's all pretty affordable, and you can literally taste your way through the market. Some things were a bit iffy looking, usually involving slimy or gelatinous ingredients that tasted surprisingly yummy, or downright odd like that Pig's Blood Cake that I mistook for tofu on the stick. Well, I'll let you enjoy some of these pics. BTW, nothing killed me or even tasted bad. And no, I couldn't get myself to eat any of the famed stinky tofu because a man has to draw a line somewhere.

This "tofu on a stick" turned out to be Pig's Blood Cake. Yummy!

I could go on and on about my experiences, but since I returned to Lubbock two nights ago and I still haven't put the finishing touches on this update I need to stop somewhere. I will follow this up with one more update in a few days, but that one will be more of a diary-type entry as a reminder to myself of the places where I went and what kind of equipment I used for the ride. That one will be based on my Facebook posts that I put up on a nightly basis, a simple cut and paste affair.

Back in Taipei after 15 days of riding

 

All betel nut stands use bright flashing lights to attract customers--plus usually hot vendorettes!

Betel nuts in the show window

Betel nut vendors at their business

Happy Buddha!

I hope that my posts will inspire you enough to travel to one day travel to Taiwan as it is such a worthy destination, safe and exotic at the same time. I really hope I'll go back one of these days, but as they say, so many places, so little time.

Jürgen